


Please Keep Loving Me

by AquaWolfGirl



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Daisy/Matt the Radar Technician - Freeform, Dark Side Rey AU, F/M, Fingering, Inappropriate Marriage Proposal, Kira/Ben - Freeform, Kylo Ren/Rey - Freeform, Oneshot, Snark, These Two Hate To Love Each Other and I Love Them, Trash triplets AU, regency au, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquaWolfGirl/pseuds/AquaWolfGirl
Summary: A piece for the lovely lilithsaur, who created the Trash Triplets. I feel like I've written so much for them, but I don't think I've ever posted anything? How is that possible?!?! So tragic. Anyways, here's a Kira/Ben oneshot!Kira hates Ben Solo. Or, rather, she hates how she loves Ben Solo. With Rey wed to one of the wealthy brothers, and her sister engaged to the other, it would be awfully poetic for her and Ben to fall in love, wouldn't it? Except it's not going to happen. There is, however, plenty that can happen involving hands and mouths. Certainly not hearts. No, no hearts involved at all.





	Please Keep Loving Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilithsaur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithsaur/gifts).



> I could have sworn I've published something with these two before but I guess I haven't? This was such a fun one to write and I will be forever grateful for the reassuring gifs Lilith sent me when I sent her little snippets. Lilith, you are precious and a dear and I am clinging onto my phonecase with your art for dear life because it is so chipped but it still works!!!!  
> Thank you for all that you do and all you create. This was a fun challenge, and I truly enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s not proper, or done, or accepted by any means. Rey is wed, Daisy is being courted, and now all eyes are on her. But she doesn’t want to be courted. She just wants whatever this is. 

The ballroom is stifling. Too many people, too much laughter. Too many words floating through the air. She doesn’t want to listen to any of them. She sips on her madeira, the thin-stemmed glass feeling too thin and delicate in her grasp, and watches as her sisters dance with their beloveds. 

She’s not complaining, not at all. Kylo is a dark, staunch lord who will help their family greatly in terms of finance, and take care of her barely-elder sister well. And Matt is a ray of sunshine, his laughter traveling over the party-goers heads as he dances with Daisy. They’re sweet, truly, and perfect matches. She’s almost envious of their success. 

Almost. 

Kira feels him behind her. He’s getting more and more impatient. Before, they would wait an hour or two before sneaking off. Now, she’s barely there half an hour, having spoken with the host and hostess briefly before grabbing a glass and lingering on the outer edge of the floor. 

In the crowded room, everyone is occupied with everyone else, and so no one notices the way his hand comes to her lower back. 

“My sisters are starting to suspect,” she says, taking a sip of the sweet wine and feeling his fingers walk up her back, up the embroidered back of her gown and upwards even further to touch the few curled locks that spiral down from her updo. 

His hand retreats. “Are you saying-”

“Seek air with me,” she says under her breath. She picks up her skirt, making her way towards the edge of the ballroom near the windows. She’ll be forever grateful that their host and hostess, an elderly and kind couple, enjoy gardens and the outdoors. It means to slip out and walk among the bushes and trees and flowers and marble statues is a compliment, as she is paying attention to the hosts’ real passion. 

She pretends to admire a rose bush. She can no longer feel him at her back, but it always takes a few moments for him to follow her. They try not to be too obvious. In the beginning, they cared more. Now, they care just enough for propriety, but little else. 

“That garnet necklace looks lovely.”

Her hand rises to her throat, touching the gems. A rare treat, to be given such a piece. “Kylo was generous,” she says, of the giver of the gift. Indeed he was. He gave all of them pretty things to wear to the wedding. And though Matt is sweet, she’s more than sure she won’t be getting such a trinket from him. 

“I like you in red.” His lips find her shoulder, just where her gown stops, and she reaches back to smack his thigh. 

“We’re too close to the manor,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “Stop being so damn impatient.”

Ladies don’t curse. Or at least they’re not supposed to. But Ben likes it, apparently, as he chuckles and steps back. 

Candles are scattered throughout the part of the garden closest to the manor, lighting her way through the rose bushes and well-trimmed hedges. It’s only when they get to the garden that they dwindle, and she has to lift her skirt so that she doesn’t trip in the darkness. Looking over her shoulder, Ben is silhouetted by the candlelight of the garden, and the warm light of the manor, surrounding him like a halo. He’s far from an angel, though, and she smiles cheekily as she ducks into the large hedge maze. 

It’s a relatively new addition to the couple’s garden, and when she asked about its presence, they launched into how delightful it is to sit inside the center and listen to the laughter of their grandchildren as they chase each other. It’s a precious sentiment, sure. She almost hates to sully the garden, but with how many times they’ve done it on the marble bench in the middle, there’s no going back. 

She downs the rest of her wine, warmth filling her chest as she walks through the maze. There’s the crack of a twig from somewhere to her right, and to play the part, Kira calls, “Who goes there?” 

“Just a lowly gardener, my lady.” She rolls her eyes at Ben’s lowering of his voice. 

“How can you see at this time of night, lowly gardener?” she calls back. 

And then there is silence, the game ending almost as soon as it began, and she smirks as she continues to walk through the maze. She has to be careful, her skirts in her hands. This gown, also given to her by Kylo, has an embroidered overlay. She hates the cream color beneath it, because she loathes light and sweet colors, but there’s also the issue of needing to be careful regarding stains of… many sorts. Mud. Grass. Bark. Release. 

She’s sure that she was given the lightest one for a reason. She can recall Kylo’s smile as he handed her the tissue-wrapped bundle, his full lips quirking up ever so slightly. 

Yes, she was definitely given the lightest and most delicate one for a reason. 

It doesn’t take too long to find the middle of the maze. She can hear the laughter of other guests as they filter out into the garden. Thankfully, she and Ben are familiar enough with the maze that, even in the dark, she can find her way to the middle as easily as the hosts’ grandchildren. 

The marble bench, covered by a stained glass gazebo, is cold through the thin layers of her gown. Setting the glass aside, Kira shudders, and looks up at the moon through the colors of the gazebo. It’s a thin sliver of a thing, a smile, truly, and she wonders if it is one of happiness or one of spite. 

With what they’re about to do, she wonders if it’s a knowing smirk.

There is the rustling of leaves, and Ben Solo emerges from them, a twig in his dark hair. She has to laugh out loud, not caring who hears as he runs a hand through his locks and emerges with a thorny stick. 

“Yes, yes, hilarious,” Ben deadpans as he walks towards her. Within seconds, his hands are cupping her cheeks and she’s being guided into a hot, slow kiss. 

It’s been weeks since they last did this, and she moans as she leans into him. She missed the taste of him, the feeling of his plush lips beneath hers. She also missed the sound he makes when she nips at said lower lip. It’s not quite a moan, not quite a groan, not quite a growl. But it’s the sound she imagines in her room late at night, with her hand between her thighs and her pillow between her teeth to keep from waking Daisy.

She can just barely hear the laughter and conversation of other guests in the garden over the sound of their mouths meeting and parting, slick and sweet. 

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes.

“It hasn’t been that long,” she insists, pulling back just so that he will chase after her lips. And he does, leaning in and groaning when he discovers the game she’s playing. 

“Any moment from your lips, from your skin, is torture,” he tells her, his lips finding the shell of her ear. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of shivering, instead holding her shoulders tight and letting him nip at the tender skin of the lobe. 

“Just my skin and lips?” It’s said teasingly. The night is cool, and the warmth of his hand on her thigh through her gown is welcome. She turns, catching his lips again as she reaches to lift her skirt ever so slightly. 

They don’t have much time. They never have much time. That’s why she doubts she would do well being Matt’s lover, or Kylo’s. They like to be sweet, they like to worship, they like to explore. Ben knows where to go and what to do and that’s exactly what she wants. 

The laughter of others is getting closer. Months ago, she would have to grab his hand and put it on her, telling him to be quick. Now, as she’s reaching for his wrist, he finds the soft skin of her upper thigh without prompting and grumbles against her lips. 

“For once, I would like to feel you,” he hisses. 

“You are feeling me.”

“No, for once I would like to feel every inch of you.”

“Say that to me once we are betrothed,” she hisses back, the wine loosening her tongue and opening the hardened shell of her heart. Her eyes widen in the dark, and she hears his breath catch, feels the warmth against her neck stop just as his hand cups her cunt. 

“Betrothed?”

“Solo.” It’s a warning, low and sharp. She can’t see his face, but she knows it, knows him and his damned mouth well enough to know exactly what kind of smirk he’s wearing. 

“You wish to wed me?” 

A gasp is wrenched from her lips as he slips two fingers in without preparation. It doesn’t matter. She’s slick enough, has been slick enough since she saw the way his dark waves shone in the firelight, since she saw his large hands cradling the small wine glass, since she saw his soft smile across the room…

Damn him. Damn him and his lips and his hands and his hair and damn her heart for liking every strand, every inch of flesh of him.

His thumb finds her clit with practiced ease, and her nails dig into the rich brocade of his jacket. How poetic would it be, the poor Kenobi sisters who live on the hill, finding love in the wealthy brothers just down the hill with the manor by the lake. How poetic, how sweet, how sickening. 

And yet--

“Solo,” she growls. 

“Will that name leave your lips with such irritation when your own is attached to it?” 

He curls his fingers and she gasps, jerking as he rubs her clit with such ferocity that she wouldn’t be surprised if he started a fire beneath her skirts. Or a flood.

She’s catching the syllables of the other guests, now. She can’t discern the words, she can’t make out much, but she can hear the harsh sound of consonants and the smoothness of the vowels. And so she clutches Ben’s hand, his wrist, feeling his pulse hammering as hard as hers. 

She hates it. She hates the way she mewls beneath his touch. She hates the way she can feel her cheeks and chest warm. She hates the way she falls apart at his hands, but knows that he is the only one she will ever, ever fall apart for. 

He plays her body as well as he plays the harpischord, and that is very, very well. They’ve done this enough times that he knows exactly how to curl his fingers and exactly how to rub her clit and exactly how to scrape his teeth against the juncture between her neck and shoulder and she will plummet. Off of the garden bench, out of his arms, and down below into hell because certainly his hands are made of sin and Father, forgive her for this, for falling so easily…

He is the only one she will ever whimper for, biting her lip hard enough to bleed to keep from crying out in pleasure. She reaches over, feeling him in his trousers, hot and hard and perfect. They don’t have time. She would give anything in the world to make time, but now she can hear Daisy’s laughter, clear as a bell, and they don’t--

“Marry me, Kira Kenobi.”

His words and one more brush of his thumb is just what sends her over the edge, and she has no doubt she’s creating crescents in the flesh of his wrist. When she gasps, his lips are there to catch it, swallowing her pleasure as she trembles against him. 

“Marry me,” he says again, and she hates the way she sobs. She’s not sure whether it’s joy that he asks, or disappointment in herself for feeling joy that he asks.  “Do I need to ask again?”

“You didn’t ask, you demanded,” she mutters, voice just a bit too breathy for her liking, even as she tries to make it sharp and angry. 

“Well, then.” Damn him. Damn Ben Solo and the way the moonlight glints off of his hair and the way his fingers are still rubbing inside of her and the way he smiles at her and the way he reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear with his free hand. His fingers trail against her cheek, and she damns herself for the way she leans into it. “Kira Kenobi. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” 

She’s opening her mouth to insist he’s going to need more than just that plain proposal when he slips his fingers from her and lifts them to his lips. The shine of them is obscene in the moonlight, and she stares in shock at him as he slips them between his plush lips, sucking her release from his skin, just seconds after proposing to her with that mouth. 

“Marry me, please?” he asks, pulling his fingers away. She can only stare at his lips. “For I cannot imagine tasting anyone else in my life, I cannot imagine feeling anyone else in my life, I cannot imagine listening to anyone else’s voice or hearing anyone else’s laughter or seeing anyone else’s lips turned up into a smirk. Please, Kira Kenobi.” It’s then that she looks up to meet his eyes. “Marry me, because I can’t marry anyone else.”

Regrettably, she isn’t given the chance to answer, because just then she hears the rustling of her sister’s satin skirts, and as she looks up, she sees Daisy clinging to Matt’s arm. The blond man’s cheeks are flushed, and his smile bright and sickeningly sweet as he looks down at her sister. 

“Oh!” Daisy’s eyes widen at the sight of the two sitting in the gazebo. “Were we interrupting something?” She looks to where Kira’s skirts are now around her calves, revealing her ankles, and Kira scowls as she shoves the fabric down. 

“Yes, in fact, you did. I just asked Kira for her hand in marriage, and she was just about to give me an answer.” 

“Oh!” Matt’s eyes grow as wide as dinner plates as he looks at his brother and his future sister-in-law. “Forgive us, carry on?”

“He knows my answer,” Kira insists, looking to the man beside her and narrowing her eyes at him. 

Nobody’s surprised when they return from the gardens. Cheers echo through the ballroom, and more wine is poured. She can feel his hand on her lower back, and for once, lets herself lean back and indulge in it instead of keeping herself just out of reach.

-

It’s not until several months of courting later, under the privacy of a willow tree in the back of the Solo manor, that Ben will take her hand and look at her with soft eyes and confess that she never really answered him, and even all these months later he doesn’t truly know her answer. 

“You said I knew it,” he tells her. The chill of winter cuts through her cloak, and when she shivers, he wraps his arm around her to warm her. “You said that I knew it, but I’ve spent every moment of the past few months not knowing if you were playing with me, or if I was simply being hopeful.”

“You’re a fool.” His fingertips are warm against her lips. “I can’t imagine tasting anyone else, either. Or touching anyone else. Or kissing anyone else. Yes, you daft fool, I will marry you.” 

She doesn’t often laugh, not really, but she has to at the sigh of relief he lets out right before he leans in to kiss her.


End file.
